-by Francene Gillis
A prelude to And Momma Cried.
From where and who did the Upper Southwest Mabou or Glencoe Mills Gillis family come? Questions from six generations back leave speculative bones, flesh found later by historical buffs. John Gillis, son of Peter Gillis, born 1759 in the west port of Moidart, Scotland, came to Canada in 1801. The information on John is contrary to prior genealogies, which have him age 21 when he came to Canada. According to the manifest of The Dove of Aberdeen, 1801, he was 12 years old, too young to travel alone. Surmising, he travelled with his older brother, Donald, a labourer as shown on the Dove register; the list is accurate, but questions remain: Why is there no mention of Donald after landing in Pictou? Did he buy land in Upper Southwest Mabou? No paper trails before the mid-1850s; we can only go by stories passed down.
It is 1801. Sickly men and women in rags fill the deck. The ship sails are up, but they move too slow. They hope to catch a wind as the trip to Nova Scotia from Scotland is longer than promised. Arrival now is June. Piled in dark holds at night on narrow berths, they sleep on burlap mattresses filled with seaweed, the air stale and dank. Little sleep with passengers coughing, snoring, vomiting. Food is scarce: salt pork, fish, dried potatoes, hardtack, rationed water. Passengers die; the trip is not for the faint-hearted. Young John is lonesome. Everyone on the ship speaks Gaelic and a new foreign language called English. His older brother Donald cautions him to stay close with 190 strangers crowded aboard The Dove of Aberdeen, but John meets delightful Anne Beaton coming with her family to the new world.
Primitive toilet facilities, few wash basins, unsanitary conditions, one warm water faucet for hundreds. No towels or soap provided. Washrooms only cleaned on entry to Pictou in time for port inspection.
Donald remains a mystery. If he fathered children, they did not survive into the 1900s when The Mabou Pioneers was written. We assume he travelled to the Canadian Immigration office in Pictou, registered, bought a ticket for land in Cape Breton, across from Pictou in Upper Southwest Mabou District. Stories have him maneuvering his vessel loaded with provisions through the Northumberland Strait to the Southwest River of Mabou, shocked by the raw coastline, moody ocean, high winds, and vast, dense towering timbers. Unsure from where the courage came, he continued forward, his father Peter’s words steadfast. “The brave continue forward even when they know what is ahead.” Close to the river, Donald discovers two families and learns of their hospitality. Made of good stuff, they provide a room while he and John build a house in the glen up off the river, and clear land in the untouched wilderness for crops in spring.
John Gillis stays in Glencoe Mills, grows up there and marries Anne Beaton, daughter of Angus and Isabel (Mac Donald) Beaton. They have six children. Peter Gillis, named after his grandfather, is their third child, born in 1814. A good-hearted man, he cherishes the virtue of goodwill. Peter marries Margaret MacDonald, daughter of Alexander MacDonald and Miss MacGillivray. Four generations removed, Angus was born in 1841 – Yours Truly – grandfather to the four brothers in this book.
Known as Angus the Cooper, I like to speak first. Then my son, Duncan, father to the boys; then Phil, their mother; and the boys according to their age. Joe, Danny, Richard, and Pat weave accounts of rural Cape Breton life from the 1920s, into that of the Second World War and beyond. Through their highs and lows, surprises, and realizations, we see the humility connecting these Gillis boys to the generations before, and to those who come after. Their parents, Duncan and Philomena (Moran) have their say, too; Phil (for Philomena) would not have it any other way. Prepare to laugh, cry, lose your marbles, and celebrate what made these boys into intrepid men and soldiers who were unassumingly remarkable. Drink in the realities of boys who become soldiers, then men, but always persons first.
* * *
Enough already… my wife Mary, daughter of Patrick and Catherine (Moran) Davis, is about to give birth.
“Angus Gillis, hold my hand. Don’t take off on me!”
“No place for a man. I’ll be in the shed waiting for word. Midwife will care for ya.”
“Angus the Cooper, take your bag back in here.”
“Can’t bear to see you in pain.”
Before she can argue, I hightail it out as she utters, “Gomach!”
Our fifth child, she should be used to it. I listen from the stoop.
The midwife cries, “Push, Mary. Push! Head is crowning.” On a welcome day in 1875, the woman wraps a squealing baby, gives him to his momma, snug as a caterpillar in a cocoon.
“Do you have a name?” I hear her ask. “A fine one indeed, Duncan Gillis!”
The name settles nicely in my bones, and I try to imagine what his future might hold. I pray it does not contain much sorrow but have no control over fate. Mary will do what she can to protect her son from heartache, but sometimes sadness gets in the way and consumes the best of us. Nothing like a mother’s love for a child.
The homestead is picturesque, closest neighbours a mile away. Nestled in a wood meadow, below a dirt road, the large barn looms first, as you travel along the lazy driveway to the front of the house. A narrow path leads left to a steep bank, parallel to a brook running to the Southwest Mabou River. The same route follows to the outhouse built over the hilly bank and river. The boys trek to the embankment to fetch water twice a day. We have a well for drinking, which flows from a mountain spring, refreshing as dew on a tranquil morning. On the right, entering the yard, stands the machine shop; farther down, the henhouse. Between that and the barn, is the well-worn path to the Long John Bridge and schoolhouse.
The family expands and life continues as the children grow up in rural Cape Breton; seven sons and two daughters. Duncan and his six brothers – Peter, Patrick, Alex, Walter, John Richard, and Daniel – and sister Margaret (Maggie), play violin; we are a musical family. A second sister, Frances, becomes Sister Mary Theresa of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Edmonton. We are proud of each of them.
Pining for more hustle and bustle once grown, they move to far-off places, as most children do. John Richard, better known as Johnny, works as a bartender in BC. Story has it that an irate man wandered into the saloon, brandishing a shotgun, threatening to pull the trigger, shoot anyone who moved. Johnny leapt the booze-filled bar, kicked the rifle right out of the man’s hand. Fancy footwork honed by years of step dancing in Glencoe saved the day.
The children write to keep us informed of their lives away and let us know how they are doing with growing families of their own. Time, as it does, moves on, little change except in children whose growth signifies the passing of hours, days, weeks, months, and before we know it, years. Turn around and you are two; turn around and you are four; turn around and you are a young one, going out of the door.
In remembrance of our grown children, who move away from home to make a living for themselves. May they remain safe and find comfort in their new places until they come home once again. And if unable to move back home, may their place become a second home to them.